


Doll, Mint In Box

by a_q



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bondage, Community: xmen_firstkink, Dom/sub, Forced Orgasm, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Kink Meme, Kissing, M/M, Objectification, Relationship Negotiation, Riding Crop, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-20
Updated: 2012-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-29 20:41:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_q/pseuds/a_q
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for an anon prompt for D/s universe, where Charles (dominant) and Erik (rare, true switch) are in relationship. Shaw imprints on Charles as a sub. <a href="http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/7634.html?thread=12337106#t12337106">The original prompt here</a>, with more details for the AU and the requested kinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doll, Mint In Box

Erik watched Charles work, admiring the glimmer of sweat on his back, the smooth movement of his muscles on every swing of his arm. He was so beautiful when he focused completely.  
Too bad that focus wasn't turned at him.

“I can feel you thoughts dear. A bit distracting,” Charles said without breaking his rhythm. The crop snapped on the flesh doll, and it jerked against the leather straps. Erik frowned disapprovingly. Charles should've let him do the metal bind.

Charles stopped and turned around, the crop in hand. Erik felt a faint flutter of interest, but it vanished quick. That didn't help with his bad mood. Charles walked over and sat next to him on the sofa, leaning against his shoulder.

“Tell me what's wrong,” he commanded, the crop tapping gently against his leg as Charles twirled it between his fingers. Erik didn't feel the impulse to obey him and that bothered him. The worthless flesh doll could feel the weight of the command, and so experience something deeper with Charles than Erik.

“I don't want you getting the high with that thing there,” Erik muttered.

“You are my high,” Charles said, and leaned to kiss him leisurely. Erik pulled him closer, knowing full well that their kissing would agitate the doll and that would keep it reaching the high. Erik liked that, the knowledge that he could torment the doll without even touching it.

“Hm...You taste like honey when you think vicious things,” Charles muttered.

“I wish you would let me play too,” Erik said, even though he knew it was a pointless request.

“Physical exertion isn't good for you in the middle of the change, you know that. You might injure yourself.”

“I'm fine, I can do it.”

“Oh? And what is 'it'?” Charles asked. “Feeling the crop or holding it? If you can tell me that, I'll let you play.”

Erik thought about it. Both those options sparked a bit of interest, but neither feeling lasted long, flickering out like matches in a gust of wind. Everyone said that it was a rare and amazing thing to experience the both sides equally, but to Erik it was more of a constant annoyance. The change from one perspective to another happened at its own, he couldn't choose it, or control it. And the change itself made him tired, and sore. Charles knew all this, so it wasn't fair that he used it against him.

“I don't know. Either. Both. You choose.”

The flesh doll made a muffled sound, that could've been a laughter. The first thing Erik had insisted, had been that the doll should never speak in his presence. So Charles kept the doll gagged most of the time. It didn't stop it to make sounds now and then.

“Shut the fuck up,” Erik snapped and Charles made a soft shushing noises to draw his attention away from the doll.

“Ignore it, it's just you and me here.”

“I hate that thing imprinted on you. I hate it. I want you to break the connection and let it die.”

“We have talked about this,” Charles said quietly. “It's unpredictable process. And even in the best case scenario, I'll end up in the bed rest for months.“

“And this isn't a best case scenario type of deal, is it?”

“No, I'm afraid not.”

“I hate it.”

“My poor darling,” Charles said, brushing his face softly. “I'm sorry I can't fix this. I know how hard this is for you.”

He looked sad, and Erik didn't like that. It was all the dolls fault, it always was. Erik didn't want to give anything to the flesh doll, but he didn't want to deny anything from Charles either. And Charles was irrevocably linked to the doll. It was maddening.

“How about I take the doll outside and finish this there, and you stay here and...”

“No! I'm not leaving you alone with that,” Erik said hurriedly. He didn't want Charles to keep this part of himself hidden away, in some misguided attempt to protect him. That would give the power to the doll, and take it away from Erik. No. He had to be part of this with Charles, that was the only way this would ever work. Charles looked at him quietly, listening in on his train of thought. Erik smiled at him.

“It's fine. Go on. I like watching you.”

“Oh? Finding out which end of the crop you like, are we?” Charles asked and smirked. “Very well. How about I command the doll to crawl at your feet? You could spit on it too, doesn't that sound like fun?”

“We did that yesterday.”

“Hm. True. But it was fun, wasn't it?”

Erik smiled. Last night had been great. The last moments before the change were always astonishing, especially on the dominant side. He liked the control, and the sense of camaraderie with Charles. They were so in tune when they worked on the doll together.

“Could you make it cry this time? I like when it cries,” Erik asked.

“Of course! It's only a little push away, it has been working itself into a state in last fifteen minutes.”

“What does that mean?”

“The doll is afraid,” Charles whispered. “It's hoping that we wouldn't notice how it is the only one without a choice here. It believes we haven't realized that yet, or what that notion entails. But it fears that we will, soon.”

“And will we?”

“I'm feeling a break-through coming on, don't you?” Charles teased, leaning to kiss him once more, before getting up. “I have to work on it more though.”

Charles stretched his shoulder, and snapped the crop with a quick motion, leaving a scalding red mark on the doll's flesh. Charles settled back to his own rhythm, the hits raining down on the doll, from upper thighs to its shoulders, then back again. Charles said nothing, just breathed evenly, hit after hit after hit falling on the doll. Erik knew how tiring that was, and he appreciated that Charles did that for him. The doll resisted for a minute, but Charles had been right, the thing was on edge.

There was a hesitant sound, a bit of a sniffle and then a genuine wet sob.

Charles stopped for a moment, and reached to remove the gag. It was just a piece of fabric secured with electrical tape. Erik liked how Charles could turn almost anything into a tool that could be used on the doll. His imagination seemed endless, and sometimes Erik wondered if that was the true skill of the pure-bred dominants.

“No words,” Charles commanded, his voice searing even in Erik's ears. He shivered in delicious anticipation. “Cry to show your devotion.”

The crop snapped, and the doll cried immediately, silent first, then with big, ugly wails of tears and snot. It sounded like choking. Erik smirked and reached to touch himself, using Charles rhythm as a base for his own. It went on for a while like this, there was no talking, just the sound of sobbing, and the smack of flesh and occasional sigh or grunt.

Erik jerked off with tense, hard tugs, no finesse, just staring at the curve of muscle on Charles back and working toward the edge. Charles glanced at him, picking up the feel how close he was. He reached to undo the leather straps that held the doll in place, and it fell on the floor into a soggy heap. Charles nudged it.

“Crawl to him,” he said and the doll obeyed, tears still flowing because Charles hadn't ordered him to stop. Charles followed and stepped past the doll, sitting down next to Erik and leaned to kiss him, lending him a hand. Erik let him take over, and concentrated kissing him. Charles was a good kisser, and he made soft butterfly touches to his mind too. Erik loved that. They kissed quite the while, they were in no hurry.

“Do you want to come? On the doll? Mark him yours,” Charles asked, knowing down to the second how close he was. “You haven't done that.”

“Because it would like it,” Erik muttered, trying to hold back.

“No, actually the mere thought makes it want to vomit.”

Erik bit his lip and stared at Charles, who smirked in reply. He didn't have to say anything, Charles knew, picking up the pace, pushing him over the edge. Erik gasped, and Charles was there, holding him, the come splattering on the doll. It didn't move, but even Erik could read the look on its eyes. Helpless rage, shame, the deep shiver of pleasure covering it all.

“And how say we? Hm? When the doll gets a gift that it is not worthy to receive?” Charles asked, snapping the crop on the closest bit of exposed skin.

“Thank you. Sirs.”

“Good doll,” Charles said nonchalantly, and with a strangled cry the doll came, unable to stop without a single touch. It cried and sobbed, head lolling like it had no strength left. The orgasm didn't subside, it still shook from the force of it, though it had nothing left to spill. It looked painful.

“I can keep it like this for a while, but it will pass out eventually. Do you care to see that?” Charles offered.

Erik sighed pleased, rubbing Charles thigh. ”Why not. It could be fun.”


End file.
